Tear the Sky Asunder

by Ice Star

Rating: teen
Tags: Thriller, Starswirl the Bearded, Violence, Princess Celestia, Death, Sad, Tirek, Princess Luna, Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Other
Length: 8207

[Poetry] In a land with no heroes, two goddesses seek to defeat the tyrant known as Tirek who has been stealing the magic of ponykind. Only there is no glory as their broken sorority hangs in the balance of a war-ravaged land.

In a land with no heroes, two goddesses seek to defeat the tyrant known as Tirek who has been stealing the magic of ponykind.

Only there is no glory as their broken sorority hangs in the balance of a war-ravaged land where hope has been snuffed out and history is hardly ever the truth.

This is not a Daybreaker, Nightmare Star/Celestia, or Solar Flare story. Cover art is by plainoasis. Contribute to the TVTropes page! Check out PaulAsaran's spoiler-filled review if you want! This story fared 'pretty good'.

Published 2016-09-21 21:00:01 UTC
Last updated 2017-03-23 19:49:02 UTC

Tribal Disharmony

Through a veil of snow, there is a land that has become its own demise—
Past the teeth of mountains is a valley barren and cold—
Where all knowledge and truth has been lost to corrupted hearts and ignorant minds.

Three races divided by lines of blood know nothing of what has, is, or ever will be.
The false glitter of gold and the products of all their lies — which are colder than the bite of a fatal wind — make up all the squaller that they see.

In their dying small ditch of a world feud after feud — all so needlessly petty — is the shovel which they use to dig their own graves.
For in this fleeting meaninglessness, when your neighbor is your enemy, and you are unknowingly your own, and all is just another gaunt and pestilence-eaten face, what could there be to save?

Vile tongues that have never spoken anything but the filthiest gossip and lies.
There is no Honesty
The slightest compassion, a concept known to none, where the cruelty of such a land could freeze the sun.
There is no Kindness
Where only greed seduces simple minds, charity will never ring out with any clarity in a land where no mortals can help themselves.
There is no Generosity.
Only the howls of the wind can be heard where any semblance of happiness is lacking, for it is but another thing to be sold through dishonest bargain.
There is no Laughter.
Where it isn't a choice to blindly obey and conformity is held as the only way, the lines that mark each fragile paper individual are worn to an indistinguishable whole. All obligation is forced, all bonds are false.
There is no Loyalty.
All are pulled with invisible strings that guide each equine puppet to its crown so they might betray each other more efficiently, wrong one another more patriotically, and nod on cue with yet another blind bow from identical figures. They clutter a world marked with only rags and riches. How would these beings — the true living dead — ever know Harmony?
This is where each leaf is a waste as the ink dribbles on to chronicle each glorified misdeed. No knowledge can be taught in such an artless and false world, a mere dot of spilled blood on every undrawn map of a greater, unknown whole.
Thus there is no Magic.

Harmony and Love are but myths in a godless waste. All is equal suffering and order reigns three times over in a play where no masks are needed. Few have any face to show.

Author's Note

A tale of the Iceverse. You don't need to read any other stories to understand this one.

Divided Sisters

The sisters seraphim
gods of forgotten birthrights
from the broken paradise of the Old World

Two little fillies that stumbled
into the cruel maw of a society
that wanted only to
tear
them
apart

The vicious villain of a world
a twisted perversion of all that should be
ensnared the one as soon as she was marked
with the regal sun
and crippled the other
so she could not stray
and would behold machinations she could do nothing to change
in the tragic duality
she found they had entered
where there was no home, no kin, no answers,
and only a halted quest
in a land where these long-lost mortals
not as precious as the elder wished
moved the sun and moon until they perished,
drained on the ground
less than dirt
called to this duty by numbers and chance
so their everyday deaths might be a raffle
to keep a world they had fought against and never seen
in the imperfect and crippled balance
they could barely maintain

Untrained and feral gods
or goddesses, if you must
that were in some ways so painfully naive
despite their two millennia spent, together
to all that they saw and those who wanted to rule a world
that was but a valley with nothing but a mass grave

Ponies, lost and misguided, claimed the elder
while the younger stared warily, suspecting something
in every glance
said ponies marveled at such powerful creatures
that were not as they were,
how utterly different
and to them this was a crime

They were lost gods
Now they were found monsters

The eldest was beautiful
She was the one who shone like fire,
burning brightly and talking and laughing with
her courtly mask
Praise fluttered about her like the bright dresses she wore
She was the wizard's prize
her and her shadow
She made him famous more than the beard ever could
She garnered fame of her own as well
the noble monster
but soon even monster was dropped
when describing the young mare
who did everything they did
and spoke as they did
and donned their chains of normalcy
with the brightest of smiles

She wanted to be just like the court
noble and beautiful and loved
admired
worshiped

She spoke nothing outrageous
and sometimes
nothing true
They loved her
for both
and nothing

She loved their attention
like a drunk loved ale
and so she gave them her time
as if there was anything left for them to take

Celestia loved fame too much to realize that she
the Unicorn Court's beloved outcast
and
monster turned civilized gentlemare
whose eyes were always resting upon the crown
was drowning.

Luna was her shadow, small and
silent
Or maybe she was like the snow to fall from the sky, only to merge with ash in its fall
small and free
lost in the storm
delicate and pure,
as the lost voice of a sister might add
fragile, she would have explained for
Celestia had certainly thought so
Luna had been her world
before she had been abandoned for another
one with no wonder
no dreams
no knowledge
and absolutely nothing to hope for

Luna, the outcast whose intelligence and honesty marked her as an outsider
Luna, the pariah who spoke her mind
when she bothered to speak at all
Luna, the suddenly forsaken, dared to tell her sister there was nothing to save here
Luna, the monster, who was called out for her small rebellions

Luna who saw no hope
but so much of what
could have been
who could only
add up
wish
after
wish
and fight
for herself
now that her sister was
gone
and there was
No future

These are the sisters
as blinding as the sun
and as lingering and waning as the moon
that each of them bears

Divided by all that is between them
The elder rots in limelight
(the glare hides her crumbling)
the youngest is saved by isolation
(for she can see through the shadows, with her eyes flashing)
that she chooses so willingly
eyes wide to watch
the ruins of everything
around her
whether it be
ponykind, which she would gladly abandon
or the broken sisterhood
that shattered when she blinked

While corruption
festers all around them
and more is forgotten by these
mere mortal ponies
every day
as the rift only grows
A single sound rings out
the dreadful peals of sophisticated laughter
from the silk-clad sun goddess
when the loudest cry
is from the one who never speaks

An unassuming jar
in the shadow of a jeweled vase
as empty as those magenta eyes have become
Yet there's only hope inside
and to set it free
is to let it go

United Brothers

Sister and sister only grow apart, but brother and brother are as close as can be
Neither ponies, Alicorns, or gods; they owed allegiance to no tribe or faction, and hailed from no land near or far across the sea

They came from the dead worlds — Paradise and Tartarus — and were born to the forgotten gods that resided within
These brothers were Reapers, immortal beings who could shift their form from a pony's, to a god's, and their own monstrous skins

They had been journeying across the farthest north of the Arctic plain. The eldest used his own powers — his Reaper's birthright — to open an otherworldly gate. Their bulky forms were strangers to both this world and the gray-white blur of the horizon. The sky that battered them with snow in an attempt to bleach the already bleak landscape of mountains, piling upon the faults that they walked over. Mixed in with the snow was ash from the great fiery-mouthed volcanoes towards the land nearer to the Pole and its star.

The brothers continue their self-imposed exile from all they've ever known. It is all so Tirek might use his power to rip the magic from pony's souls. Scorpan, the younger of the two, took the lead, as if trying to part the snow they were trying to walk through. His form was sheltered by only the leathery shield made by his stilled wings. He used his talon to point out their surroundings, calling his older brother's attention to the most trivial of things in this land, which was so unlike the diverse Tartarian hellscape they grew up in.

He chattered on and on about the fame that they would bring themselves, now they would finally prove their parents — who had acted as their teachers — wrong. Soon, the ponies that had somehow survived the mysterious fall of the Old World, would bow before them as their new kings. These autocrats would be the only ones worthy of wielding any power on this miserable, freezing continent with no one to question or challenge them. They may not be Alicorns, like their sire or dam, but these two immortals wanted to gain the power that came with godhood in one way or another.

Scorpan fingers the medallion with his free claw, the gold unable to glitter in such conditions. It was the only token he had to remind him of the mother, father, and the little sister he had left behind. He had abandoned all in order to ally with Tirek in his quest for power. He hated the necklace and all it stood for. A moment of silence as Scorpan walks on, and then he suddenly pauses and rips the piece over his head with a brusque, careless movement and turns around to face Tirek, clasping it in his hand-like paw.

Tirek
Who is built
not with the
structure of the tallest tower,
a brief, thin shape to
pierce the sun's light but
with the brutish
concentrated might
of every palace wall
whose harsh features bear a
snarling grin when
given any power,
his teeth flashing brighter
than his polished horns
His mouth
only ever scowled
with brooding irritation
hidden to none
At the sound of his name
The tyrannical harshness
that is his natural state
twists slightly
As if bearing the semblance
of whatever brotherly sneer
he could muster
cruel despite its bizarre earnestness
and all Scorpan had ever known

"Here," Scorpan offered, extending an arm and holding the medallion, letting it swing feebly to catch whatever sunlight it could.

Tirek pauses, waiting for this to be explained to him, as his mind was already that of a king.

"To celebrate," Scorpan calls loudly, above the snow, "what we are about to do?"

Tirek scowled deeper, muttering a few garbled words to himself about chatterboxes despite his brother's sudden brevity.

"Just take it, Tirek."

"What would I need your necklace for? It is the key through which you channel your magic. You will not be as sharp in power without it."

"My magic will work very well despite lacking a proper key to open many realm-doors with, and I am always able to forge my own. They may be sloppy, but they work, my brother. Call it a token of our brotherhood. We shall be kings, after all, and of all!" Scorpan cheered, "Our strength will be proven, and no longer shall we have such empty titles such as Lord Scorpan and Lord Tirek. No longer will the spirits of the damned whisper our names with the hollow fear that Tartarus instills in every mortal soul, but with the fear any good kings deserve. We shall be subjects of the same dread they show to father! Oh, this is going to be thrilling and—"

A simple swipe of Tirek's great hand snatches the necklace snagged in Scorpan's claw. He roughly slips it over his head and horns, past his long white mane, which had become overgrown during travel. It was tied back with a simple jeweled piece that marks him as having been a prince in all but name.

This simple gesture silences his eager sibling, although the quick glance from the elder's darker eyes doubt his most loyal follower. It was the same, sneaky doubt Tirek had regarded their parents and younger sister with.

"Ponies are but husks of magic, Scorpan. No glory will come from taking their land; it is the weak hearts of ponies themselves that we must conquer!"

Scorpan nodded solemnly and battered back the storm with a few waves of his arm before resuming his trek, all as his own steps in the snow are overtaken by Tirek's.

Tirek
is but another
spelling for 'tyrant'
He who seeks only
only to triumph by
building a throne
upon others that
he has felled in
the worst possible ways
where each red cape
is colored with a sheen
of innocents' blood
and the purple trimmings
of royalty
are but the bruises of those harmed
to obtain the power
that he seeks
to wrench from hooves as cold
as snow and so frozen
they can barely hold onto anything
and are marked
with their own blood
as he, the
lone tower
soars above their cries

The Heroes of Ponykind

In a land with no knowledge
no truth
no individuals
and
no justice
Each word has lost all meaning
each difference and subtly worn
to another indistinct brick
in the pile of what was once
an art and a long-lost
reminder of times long-forgotten
when the dust of ignorance
corrupted no syllable and
only the foolish were truly silent
even in their own minds

Hero is but a name
as devoid of everything
as everything else
to utter to anypony
who met every standard
and was but a sum
of their flimsy ideals
and only a dash more assertion
to go with their polished exterior
(to reflect each lie so it was something greater, so they might feel untouchable)
and unneeded worship
and make up for
twice the hollowness

In a time with neither
light or dark all heroes
are just repeats
and tired examples
of inadequacy
(that few will admit)
trimmed with faint glorifications
for no reason at all
they are that twisted
word
it is their name
as each dull echo blends
into the last
a truly featureless face
that disappears in a blink
(as if there were identity to begin with)
which comes from time spent
looking at all this
for so long,
a world that lacks
what it was
(almost-nearly-everything)
and
has no knowledge or will
to swim
when it can so willingly
sink

The greatest of all the
tattered society's holes
in a dull and muted
fabric, frayed to
the point of fading
despite the scarring
effect of the existence
it leads
This is the tear
with the richest blue
cape
many would have seen
dotted with stars
that bear no liking
to the lights
that shine through the
everyday oblivion
A belled hat
hides his eyes
and announces his presence
before his
annoyed shouts
slur-laden
and impatient have
caught up with the ring
He always had
so much of
nothing
with meaning
with insight
with tact
to say to
anypony at all
Wizard only because he
knew something beyond court meetings
and castes
however trivial and false
it might be
Scholar only because
he bothered to own a book
(and use it)
instead of the customary spear
and his line was
too noble to degrade
Strange because
he lived away from civilization
in a valley all his own
where he kept
two caged birds

He never fought any battle
except with the things he yelled
and the hooves he pointed
to everypony else
he had no friends
no youth he would ever speak of
only unreasonable outbursts
to every little thing
Starswirl the obnoxious noble
(named for his beard in later years)
never smiled once
never thanked anypony for
anything, no matter how
crooked the favor
He only got what he wanted
by force and had no time
for anypony — even himself — at all
dismissing any and every
wonder
dream
and love
as less than nothing

Often by his side
ordered about on a whim
to run there
fetch that
travel here
and quiet down
when she would barely
even speak
except in the half-remembered
parables of a foalhood
she never had were
clear in a mind
that barely knew any magic
except for
how to take a burlap sack
or two
any dusty, cast aside rags
sew them together to
shelter a pink coat and
the brightest green mane
so she might be looked
over despite her normalcy
and know only how to
disappear

The Mountain Pass

Tyrant and tyrant have reached a part of their journey's end
and have arrived at the mountains that mark the border of land not even Harmony can mend

Each steep and jagged peak forms a wall that few will pass, if any at all
The stone divider is held by the ponies within to be as impassable as it is tall

Days, weeks, and even months could be spent trying to make the climb
But Scorpan has an idea that could save the brothers' time

With a wave of his paw and a few invisible strings of magic pulled a door — like a mirror reflecting another place — appeared out of thin air
Through it, they can see a method of travel more efficient than most paths that might leave these two travelers much worse for wear

In the surface of elsewhere a squat and foreboding, utterly dismal stone castle can be seen
and crowded around it, through rain and snow, rank buildings with filthy thatched roofs make up manors and shops inhabited by unicorns who are far from clean

Both routes could lead to the same destination: path one through Scorpan's gate, or the second rife with danger, in this tomb of snow it would not be unusual to find a frozen hunks of pony-flesh and bone
leftover from some desperate mortal soul who died with thick white sheets pulled across the starving, ignorant husks of their frost-bitten forms — utterly alone

As if there was any choice at all
Tirek points to the northern mirage gate
his fiendish hand to decide ponykind's fate
a fantastical door, a simple choice
in a country that knows no destination
the single finger points to the roof of a unicorn hall

A decision is made, a path is set
all in the name of Tirek's bet
everything is framed in a gate of shimmering color, which like a heart does pulse
and in it is the capital of a lying land where every known truth is false

This gate — almost peaceful — is unadorned
and unknowingly deceptive as any lie
Yet, here is your fitting inscription:
ABANDON ALL HOPE YE WHO ENTER HERE
Ponies, you have been warned
now comes the tyrant who wishes to reap your souls and magic so you might die

Unicorns Underhoof

small and fragile are the ponies burdened by so much silk
and jewels
with hearts like they very gemstones that they wear

in the castle the door is barred, wood held shut with all the might and aura
that thirty unicorn soldiers can muster
which is barely a film of light to coat the wood

their numbed, dead hearts beat in unison
cryingwantingbegging not to be caught
but there are the thunderous hoofsteps
of Tirek with the peasant's sparks
barely withholding him turned to true fire

in the stone hall now dark of candles
the nobles scream and wail
more than infant Platinum in her nurse's hooves
King Tantalum upon the throne, he is the legacy of Titanium
who is said to have fought the savage monster-sisters when they first arrived
in this desolate land
King Tantalum, the bravest of all unicorns
frets and cowers under the crown
eyes darting for a way to weasel himself out
his arranged bride, the consort Queen Vitalis
huddles nearby, mind consumed by fear
as she ignores Platinum's shrieks
which are drowned to all but her parents
who pretend not to hear
as the door is ripped as if it was less than paper

there stands — in full view
the barrel of Tirek, full of magic
his hands like two halves of a cage
and his fingers thicker than any bar
rip away the roof
and the door's frame
so his face might sneer upon his prey
and Scorpan might fly through
using his magic to levitate the nobles
faint and limp with terror
to Tirek
where his maw drains their feeble energy
and tosses the dolls to the side in the direction of the soldiers
who are unfit to protect even themselves
and the next to suffer Tirek's wrath
thrown to the floor
and like the nobles broken beside them
bowing
for they have exchanged one tyrant for another

none stand between usurper and the crown-rest that is
Tantalum's fear-eaten skull
only one sound escapes his lips
as he turns to the nearest mare
his glassy eyes not seeing Platinum
held in another's hooves
(as she has always been)
for what could be his last sight of her
through his sputtering squeak
the nursemare hears the cry of 'run'
and does so
with the heir to all unicorns within the faintest wisp of magic

the queen's scream rips through the hall
as she watches the mare with the filly
she had never thought of as a mere princess until then
running at the monster to reach the doors he tore
and dashing out before she could be seen

only

only...

Tirek heard the queen's scream
and saw her
dash and try to follow
but he sees not where she is going
or what the dress-laden mare is seeing
just where she is
so he raises his giant hoof
while Scorpan hassles the already beaten ponies
and Tirek waits
for the right moment
to bring it down
and watch the king scream too

unicornia

conquered

Ruined Nations

Where three Sirens work their magic
Enchanting earth ponies across the countryside for power
Starswirl will soon hear of this
The last resort of the race he holds so low, despite the prejudice that haunts them all

Although his services — if he agrees at all — will come at a heavy price that few could truly pay
Nothing can be done with their minds under the spell of the trio of enchantresses
Dying crops dot the southwestern fields, all as the food supply of all three Tribes rots beneath earth pony hooves

Escaping the castle ruins is young Platinum's nurse
And in her desperation she finds a unicorn who can deliver the news of the castle's fall
Still, there is no rest for her as Platinum — in the tradition of her kin — cries not for family, but for material lost
The second messenger departs, on a parallel journey with the first, putting the ruined northeast behind him

Another Face

stir not,
for pegasi walk the sky
and the only sight that brings those winged brutes pleasure
is to watch members of the fairest tribe writhe in agony 'fore they fall over and die

see not,
a single shape, up there in the daily storm that even they can barely master
if you hear the clink of metal and feathers rustle, run faster

linger not,
for magic-drained legs can barely move and to warn of their planned invasion you must run far
only then do you realize there is no shelter that can keep you safe in the game of many tyrants,
even innocent souls find themselves bathed in feathers in tar

fear not,
as the brigade comes flying, the movements of the armor-clad pegasi are far from tame
somewhere in time — future or past, this poem knows not — ponies are told to love both their enemy and neighbor, not knowing they are the same

...

stir not,
for in the sky-dwelling tribe's charity as they storm through unicorn-laden streets drained of magic and filled with strife
their wing-blades prove to be quick and brutal as they are so generous in their quest for wealth to relieve you of your life

wait not,
for thunder always comes before the lightning
and in the ruined streets stands a creature tall, red and black that even your winged slayer finds to be frightening

hear not,
for you have perished and no wings have ever adorned your back
yet you cannot even see the sweet vengeance of your flight-leeched foe's form go slack

count not,
for even though you are not among the ranks it takes little time to see
that each pegasus stallion, mare, and foal is here to plunder, their expressions twisted in hollow copies of barbaric glee

empathize not,
for the sole reason of they were not like you in life, nor will they be in death as Tirek stands unbroken above
each and every limp form
younger brother Scorpan follows close behind, his face his expressionless as he surveys the scene, although his face betrays something of love

love not,
for you are a pony, dead or alive
you were but another meant to obey every word spoken by whoever was groomed to be the crown's oh-so willing victim
you are starved, unremarkable, everyday, ignorant, un-dreaming, perfectly prejudiced, and without even batting an eye—
easily declared as replaceable now that you lie cold and — as expected — forgotten
Tirek is filled with even more power and a deepened tyrannical drive

care not,
for you have never dreamed, questioned, or made yourself you in the life you never lived
your role was non-existent and might as well already be filled
so we move on from meaningless you to troubled Scorpan who stares at those who have been killed

doubt not,
is what ponies would say, least of all your tribe
no matter the pony's race they repeat the same thing as one mind put into different skin
when out of all around him the only one Scorpan should question is his very own kin

Disturbed Slumber

Guile alone will not save young Scorpan
Under the falling midnight snow, he sits
Inside him, silence and more eating at his mind
Like a lullaby of war with only one refrain:
This is all your fault,
Your deeds mark each equine form, freezing in the night

And so with all the stealth he can muster
Scorpan sneaks away, hiding among the stilled bodies of two conquered tribes

Snow offering him a single mercy
Inching flakes of ice to hide his tracks
Now he heads south, hope never crossing his mind

Ignis Sol

The heroes of ponykind—
one bigoted and one meek
find an inn and stay the night along the southern border
and among ale-slurred words
the innkeeper — a sickly mare of the earth — accepts the wizard's parasitic will:
for their stay, she earns no coin
her response is a single nod—
barely noticed and weak

Brought along to carry any bags
are two who despite their youth have ages that outnumber any hag's
there, a mare vain and fair quietly sips her piss-poor drink
her regal manners almost unseen
Next to her at the corner is the filly — though her dress and manner suggest otherwise — with an honest stare
her sword of mortal craft, called Quicksilver, is at her side
and her soft mane of sky's blue is brushed and clean

Her sister sits behind her, overshadowing her with two verses
garbed in lace and silk
with a circlet at her head
and next to her was the harsh metal sunbeam of gold
against the shabby counter it leaned,
bold, gleaming, and burning in the dim light
to some, it was the Dawn's Star, a bright fire
that must have taken even the finest unicorn smith his life to sculpt
so that his forge became his pyre
To the groomed mare who wielded it
if it had a name at all
it was called with a simple one, uttered by this mare so cultured and cool
as she - without a warrior's seriousness in this deed — dubbed the sun-bright metal
Ignis Sol

Outside snow falls thick but cannot mask the howl
of a stranger's woe-filled shouts
as he bangs upon the weak door
our hero, the esteemed Starswirl walks toward the rattling
and the sisters appear battle-ready
When it is flung open, Scorpan, cold and weary stares into Starswirl's scowl

The wizard raises a sword of plain steel above the stranger's head
its name nonexistent, or at the very least forgotten
as the metal tool fell
the eyes of young Scorpan met the impassive look of the fairer sister
sparking a sort of pity as brief as the golden flash that left her in Scorpan's stead

Screams, and shouts fill the air
as the wizard Starswirl curses the charge,
the court-appointed daughter he nearly cleaved in two
calling her useless, at best and at worst things that caused even the still-young Luna to move her hooves to her ears while stunned tavern-goers and Scorpan look on with a collective appalled stare

While Sister Dark's mind retreated into itself as she bore witness to her sister's almost-unheard of defiance
Sister Light falls to her knees
small tears ripped in her skirt of bright color and lace
and begs for Scorpan to be able to tell his story after the steel hilt meets her head
she sways, dizzy
but it is just once, to the surprise of all who had heard tales of Starswirl's anger
yet the most surprising thing is Starswirl's compliance

...

Scorpan too, falls before the weak wizard
and tells of his brother who lurks within the blizzard

To these ponies, he comes near
and at his words, their eyes shine with fear

From his place upon the floor in front of the unworthy one
Scorpan begs forgiveness for what he has done

He believes these unenlightened brutes who know not even who they are
are their lost ancestors, ruled by some gods who ruled lands more prosperous by far

Putting their bigotry aside for just a short bit of time
the inn-goers — sisters excepted — agree to 'forgive' Scorpan of his crime

In bursts, a messenger hailing from the west
The earth pony having traveled long without food or rest

He warns of three sorceresses and their enchanting wiles
This messenger begs for help, offering a vast reward of riches in piles

At the prospect of a promised price
Starswirl shows yet another vice

Knowing Scorpan's weakness lies in his humility
Starswirl lies to the best of his ability

He calls the creature he cares nothing for to travel with him and the meek mare with a mane of green
To save the lives of ponies and make Scorpan's record appear clean

Refusing to hear any protest from either divine mare
Starswirl, Clover, and Scorpan leave without receiving a single glare

In reality, Starswirl's kindness was but another easy lie
So he could desert those at the tavern and leave them doomed to die

Echoing in the distance as the wizard and his cheerless party leave is a single sound:
Tirek's mighty hooves upon the ground

Before Battle

The ground that freezes more with each generation
trembles
His steps are nearer with each movement and his shadow washes over the inn and
looms
The building that does little to hold the cold at bay
quavers
like a leaf in bitter autumn gusts
Ponies who stand no chance pour from the ramshackle entrance, already screaming as they scatter to nowhere at all with the hope of
escape
Their strength is wrenched from them as he makes his appearance known and
scowls
His jaw clicks shut as he grows once more, above those who couldn't
dream
or
defy
much of anything at all
With the taste of all the pony magic of the races in sight and two races utterly
defeated
and
decaying
he could now stand to take
something that matters so much more, the power of so many would be able to hold the might of gods within the boiling forces inside him, and though he has seen no
Alicorns
bright beacons of everything meant to be in a world that appears dead
He towers above limp earth pony forms, glazed-eyed and shivering on the ground as their life drains away,
corrected
as there below him stand two goddesses with their wings flared like sails in such a dismal sea
and still, he thinks that
surely
this cannot be
except
a bolt of something bright from a sky that bears no storm
burns
his arm as it sails past, a streak of lightning sailing by and proves him to be
wrong
the blue-coated filly who challenges him gulps visibly and presents a sword in retaliation
she gulps again but does not
falter
beside her small, thin form, her companion and elder
stares
at the merciless monster of a tyrant before her
with eyes wide and fearful
To her, the thought of ponies nearby
in thatched homes that burned as easily as they do
hurt
Her legs trembling, her dress muddy and her magical grip on her weapon
slipping
She draws one last ragged breath
drops her gaze and
flees

To Ashes

every time She screams for them to run
the ponies of the earth only run
from Her

the snow-pure mare with a mane and dress of color
in a world dulled with muted grays and browns

Her heart sings desperately to help these ponies
who only lock themselves up in
constructions too flimsy to stand
against anything more than a storm

She cries out again with a pleading voice not suited
to being in the cold
dry
biting
freeze
that forever haunts this land

Celestia begs in the settlement square
Her own heart pounding with fear
for these ponies to
run
(as She had done)
and escape the wrath of the tyrant tirek

the white mare with Her gown's hem
no longer bright with traces of something other then
dull
indistinct
and
other drab hues that suggest only
mourning and sorrow
falls to Her knees in
wet gray slush
dirtying Her pristine coat
and cries
as She watches a bolt of light
straying far from where the battle was
and belonging to none but Her shadow who stayed

She watches it fall
onto the buildings, like chests locked too tight,
that house jewels only She can see
and around Her
the world begins to burn

Lost Queen

Among ashes, Celestia stumbled
Her face an expression of mute horror
and as pale as the flame-licked bones
that lurked within all this ruin
yet her eyes shone like fire in the dark
even if they only stared straight ahead
bleakly replaying the sight

Of thatched houses
and the ponies within
sheltering themselves from fire-rain
and her
standing no more but leaping
and soaring
into action

Her own horn had shone as bright as flame
as she tried, with her goddess-might,
to rip down doors and pry open windows
tears from sorrow and smoky, cinder-filled air
choking her
as if to muffle her cries
for she only tried to offer them
kindness
and save them from a fire that raged wantonly

But they, ponies of the mostly-frozen earth
would not trust the monster who dove so willingly
into flame
and terror
telling them

GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT

Please...

fearing her as much as any fire
perhaps even more

Celestia, begging over and over, tearing at any obstruction
that would fall in her path
licked by tongues of flame that threatened her desperate cause
just as much as the ponies within

And it was all in vain, her own shouts
lost
in a mad frenzy
where the last screams of the dying
blended
with the roar of the fire
her racing heart
and the hoarse, heavy coughs
that punctured her desperate screams
for help
from anypony
for everypony
that she couldn't seem to save
no matter how much rubble she tried to pull away
and how much of her silly skirt was burned away,
catching on collapsed frames,
the skeletons of more-than-humble homes,
and burning away

But now
She stood
alone
alive
Two trails where tears had flowed
what could have been hours before
tracing twin lines down her cheeks
powdered with ash
to reveal the white coat beneath
rags hang about her frame
their bright colors
gone
their elegance and patterns
marred

Her long legs shake
but not from the cold

Celestia
is
tired

Her knees are caked in dried blood
that she is relieved to know
is hers
and hers alone

Again, she finds herself
alone
and
bowing
to the crowning flurry—
ice and snow reigning over a sky her now-scorched wings cannot hope to reach—
as she prostates before the cruel world that she has come to know
the only living creature
for miles

She pauses to take a breath
tasting the black snow
and around her the silence echoes

The young goddess, only a few heads taller than
the average pony, whether noble or serf
pricks her ears forward
to catch the sound of
somber humming
coming from behind her place on the ground

It sounds so near her
and were the dirge-like tune
not unknown to her
she would say, to herself of course
as she bows on this lonely plain,
that this tragedy
might be a dream

Before her, stood proof that she was wrong
and Celestia was no longer alone

Silently turning to see the source of such an eerie tune
she came face to face with another
who would likely be so quick to be called monster
were ponies still alive
and she sat not in a garden of ash and bone

But...

Before Celestia, behind Celestia—
she was far too dizzy to care—
there was another Alicorn mare
with a coat of orchid,
which was a reminder of other times
when it was her and Luna, alone in a world
without snow and lies

Something compelled her
to take a single step
toward the mare with a mane and tail
that flowed like a river of golden light
while her own colorful hair
shimmered despite its limpness

The mystery Alicorn who
with her spotless coat
and height that surpassed any pony
whirled to face the
flame-licked maiden
lying in the ashes before her

The orbs of pulsing, multi-colored light
shining with memories that weighed
the deeds of souls she had come to reap
vanish
and her blue eyes widen
at the sight of a goddess that should not be
an immortal that until now has remained
unknown
and escaped the ruin
of another story — an Old World—
that even she, this Alicorn maiden,
would only recall in fragments

They gaped at one another
words coming to neither mare

The Reaping Queen shocked that the
ragged and broken sight before her could be real
though it could only be true
the ghost of a mare
the pale young goddess
saw through a spell barrier
that only blocked mortal eyes

And Celestia, as the mare of ashes sputtered
a name known to no god that remained,
was no mortal

Elysium of Paradise, a world known only to the dead
stared at the half-grown mare on the ground
bidding her to rise

Blue eyes meet magenta
and the queen asks the little mare before her
to fill in the details that have been lost in the chaos of the
disaster before them all
and if
she still wants to save
what is left
to rise from the ashes once more

And Celestia nods, yearning
to be a hero

Celestial Reaper

As the battle between the littlest goddess and the tyrant rages on

Great effort on Luna's part has managed to draw out the fight
And the winning blow is in sight — even if both are above death
Though both are weary for the relentless strikes from the other
Each will agree: they will not submit, whether they are drained of vigor, resolve remains in both, even if they are bloody and beaten

Over from the west, the fair sister returns, flying through the sky with her horn aglow with new magic
Pulling her sister's concentration away from a strike of lightning to the back of the neck that would have ended it all
Ensuring that Tirek's hand is able to smack Luna down to the ground where she does not lay unharmed
Nevertheless, a new spell is cast as Celestia aims,
Splitting and tearing the sky asunder so that Tartarus is in plain view where only snow has been and returns one brother home

Status Quo Returned

In a valley far away
from much of everything
and near
not much of anything
only sitting
somewhat southward
so that some days
it rains

And it does today
but to the north
snow still falls
cities are suddenly quiet
even if magic has been returned
and ripped from the tyrant who harvested it

Snow still falls over the shallow graves
of unicorns who were buried
where they froze
in their mountain hold
as cold and gray as everything else
blurring and blending
into a horizon that cannot be seen

And the fortress-city
of ice-laden clouds
that forever hangs in the sky
according to the soldier-populace that resides within
is lacking in the ranks it once had
but it sill floats on
waiting to strike again

Westward, the ponies of the earth
stir like ghosts
across the near-barren plains
that they have called home
and though
sirens no longer haunt them
and sing their bewitching songs
but their treasured food
and meager wealth
was almost gone
and soon
their stomachs would be
nearly as bare as their land
as winter
dragged on

Away from the strife
but close enough so
that it is never forgotten
is a valley
where two ponies live:
heroes of the realm,
silent and greedy
meek and proud
and with them are mares
who shall have little recognition
beyond whispered rumors

The elder keeps secret
her meeting with the Reaper Queen
and the spell she had been given
to tear a hole past Tartarus's gate
and access worlds inhabited only by the dead
and some strange gods that desire not to be seen
but as each night passes
and the moon is yanked into the sky
she sees the eyes of ponies
and their faces before they burned

Celestia never looked at ashes
and dust
without knowing
ponies could become them

Distance only grew
between the two sisters
marked with the sun and moon
locked in a ward-sealed valley

The elder threw herself in the maw
of the Unicorn Court
with every chance she had
the floors an invisible game board
for her to play hero on
while wanting a world
where no ponies burned

In the window of the emptiest
quietest place to be
in the looming spire
where screams often echoed
from stone
the sister who spoke
next to nothing at all
watched the trees below,
waves of storm clouds
dancing above them
like the waves of oceans
she never forgot

Luna continued to say
more of nothing
with each passing day
but find meaning in
every little silence that came to pass

Carefully, she nudges the window
of her cage
open with a gentle hoof
the sound of rain beating the glass
with the sound of a hundred little notes
only she likes to listen to
to hear the thunder rolling by
and nose her head out into the storm
where rain drums on her face
so she can hear the mountains echo
dreaming all the while

Author's Note

[This was revised for print on 11/8/2020]

Forked Road

The unicorns hold nothing without their magic
they still raised the sun and moon at the cost of thousands of lives
when gods who could do so easily were not far away

but they were now
when the proud pony race had its hooves in the mud
like the very neighbors that they so casually cheated
for food that could not survive in the mountain
and neither would they

soon
the sun and moon would fall
if no attempt to save this wasteland was made
as they sat in the dirt
cold chilling them
and robbing of them of breath

soon
the kingdom of the unicorns
would just be a tomb for Platinum to inherit
a mass grave of the bitterest cold
if no moves were made to rescue
the figureheads they worshiped
and the gilded fools that shepherded them

so a messenger from this northern mountain
to seek out the only unicorn left
with their magic intact
the heroes of the unicorns

while to the southeast
earth ponies cower
at the magic of the sirens three
and ready a messenger of their own
with pleas for help
and money to do the talking
for the heroes of ponykind

both travel different lands
with tales of terror
and one destination, shared
like the misery that binds them all

Immortals Clash

A beam of magic scorches the ground
pouring forth from Tirek's horns
and burning away the snow
and all below it

Lightning curls from the horn of the small goddess
cloaking her
in an awesome and terrifying symbol of
a birthright almost forgotten
that she still has yet to master

And discarded on the ground lies
Quicksilver, blade bearing chips
from where it struck the tyrant-monster's hide
only to draw no blood from the magic-supported skin,
forgotten as soon as this battle was silently declared to be
magic versus magic
and immortal against immortal
in a world that denied all

Shining in the metal surface
were gleams of blue aura
slicing a gray sky
where only snow had fallen for moons
and brighter lights showed too

The lightning of the young goddess
rang throughout the barren place
needing no thunder
to shake the world to its core

The show of light and might dragged on
as fire rained on the world below
from a sky that barely held anything other than snow
and in the sky the goddess flew
dodging to the best of her ability
recalling instinct and
her own careful training,
presided over by none other than her,
in the heat of the moment

Streaks of light
dance behind her
and sparks are sown
on a land that would never thaw
until it shone bright for all to see
under a layer of snow and ash
and all was blurred by wisps of smoke
that manage to drift upward
beyond the tyrants, mortal or not
and beyond the struggling goddess
who now fights alone

They curl upward, rising beyond it all

Open Wound

Where magic fails to protect him, his skin shall be cut
by crackling light, flowing behind a feathered blur of blue
who keeps her breath steady as she soars
quickly, cutting through smoke and snow
despite her exhaustion
she presses on
and slowly
carefully
manages to
keep
on going
when her wings ache
and a few singed feathers
fall to the ground

But
she sees a spot
where she can strike
her blue-green eyes
looking upon it with desperation
and
lashing out with
a burst of speed to bring her closer
faster
so she can't waste the small chance that she had discovered

And she soars, darting and flying down to his shoulder
with webs of crackling light behind her
flowing like a battle standard
of magic so glorious it managed to rival the natural force
that it mimics

Luna, brave and tired, burns the monster
and a wound, deep and burning, is made
followed by his enraged bellows as she arcs away
slipping out of reach
and
she watches there

Her eyes are wide as she takes in his roaring
and he stares at the burning wound
unable to believe that he could be wounded
by a mare so young she is not yet grown

From between his fingers, blood seeps
his barrier and disbelief doing nothing
to hide the crimson drops welling up
and falling past the barrier of
ragged, burned, and torn flesh
and rolling down the smoldered fur
of his dark coat
and onto the trampled, cinder-smothered ground
wet with fresh snow
and the monster watches
with a hateful glare
as they fall there, forming a sickly slurry
of blood and slush

Turning to face the goddess
Tirek shot the goddess
a look of pure malice
and his horns crackled with stolen power

Luna stretched her wings,
choked back a gulp
and fought on